


Scenes of a Domestic Nature from the Modern Metropolis: A Compendium

by Margot_Lescargot



Series: Burdens of Responsibility [8]
Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: (just a bunch of scenes thereof), (so could feasibly be read as standalone), M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, crack with feelings, from a few months after Foxglove Summer to just after the action of The Hanging Tree, set across a year, very minor spoiler for The Hanging Tree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21532015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Margot_Lescargot/pseuds/Margot_Lescargot
Summary: Selected scenes from a year in the (personal) life of Nightingale and Seawoll.
Relationships: Thomas Nightingale/Alexander Seawoll
Series: Burdens of Responsibility [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1522985
Comments: 20
Kudos: 44





	Scenes of a Domestic Nature from the Modern Metropolis: A Compendium

**Author's Note:**

> As the title suggests, this is nothing more than a series of unconnected scenes, taking place over about a year (beginning circa three months from the end of Foxglove Summer to around a month after the end of The Hanging Tree). Consequently, there's some variation in tone of component parts, but, maybe, I'd suggest, a bit like life?  
Also, this won't make a lot of sense without having read the earlier works in the series.  
Thanks to PerchingOwl as ever for beta

‘When did it happen? I mean, when did it start to happen?’

They were in bed, in Thomas’ room at the Folly. It was still relatively early on a Sunday morning but there was nothing they had to do. Crises permitting, Peter was at Beverley’s house in Richmond for the weekend; he had mentioned something about baffles and Thomas had tried to look politely interested.

‘I first noticed it, or rather first accepted that something was happening in the early 1970s I think,’ Thomas lay on his side, his head pillowed on Alex’s outstretched arm, ‘then it seemed to settle, to where I am now, and I haven’t changed, since, um, 1990 or so.’

‘Don’t I know it. I used to see you then, swishing around town in the Jag.’

‘_Swishing_?’ said Thomas in outrage.

‘You know what I mean. Striding into crime scenes, all cheekbones and bespoke suits. Could make quite an impression on a young copper just down from the north.’

Thomas regarded him through narrowed eyes. ‘I’m almost entirely certain that you wouldn’t have been “just down from the north” as a detective constable; you went to Hendon at the very least, that I do know.’

‘And in any event,’ and with whip-fast speed, he rolled onto Alex and pinned him to the bed, ‘I’m not sure I’ve forgiven you for the swishing remark yet.’

‘Oh no?’ Alex raised an eyebrow. ‘Well then, we must rectify that.’

He wasn’t as fast as Thomas, but he did have the advantage of bulk, and it was Thomas who then found himself pressed into the mattress.

‘Now then,’ murmured Alex, as he lowered his lips to Thomas’ throat, ‘where shall we begin?’

***

‘Do you mind if we don’t? I mean, don’t make a big thing of it: the weird shit, the magic. Look, I know it’s the main part of your job and all, but do you think we could try to keep things as normal as possible? Outside the job?’

The corners of Thomas’s mouth had quirked at “normal”.

Alex continued, ‘So it’s just you and me, I mean. Not me and the bloody Nightingale.’

Thomas pondered this. He couldn’t remember a time when anyone had wanted him _not_ to be the Nightingale. All the time. It took him almost a minute to imagine what that might be like.

Alex mistook his silence for disagreement.

‘Look, it’s ok, it’s fine. Just a thought.’

‘No, no. I believe you may have something. I could live without the definite article certainly,’ he grinned. ‘Very well. And no extraneous magic when it’s just the two of us. Except for emergencies of course. Or any special circumstances…’

‘Good enough,’ said Alex. ‘Thank you,’ and kissed him.

***

They were descending the main staircase again. 

‘And there’s the basement as well, but not much of interest in there. The lab, the old cells, I don’t think we need bother, do you?’

‘Fucking hell Thomas. I mean, really. I had no idea how big this place was. It’s difficult to tell from the outside. And just you for, what, sixty, seventy years?’

‘And Molly of course. But, do you know, I’d rather not dwell on that, if it’s all the same to you.’

‘Understood. So that’s the lot then is it?’

‘Well… there’s the coach house also of course. Which you’ve already seen.’ He cast a glance sideways. ‘Alex! Are you _blushing_?’

‘No.’

‘Hmm, very well. But it might be worth your taking a look. Peter’s taken it over completely to store all his gadgets. It’s very different these days, to how it was when you were last, um, there.’

‘Enough.’

‘As you wish. But shall we?’

Thomas led the way across the courtyard and they climbed, again, the ironwork staircase.

‘Bloody hell. You weren’t wrong.’ Alex surveyed the room; the chaise longue was still in situ but everything else had changed, including the levels of dust. Alongside the outsize television and a games console were serried, professional-looking ranks of files sitting next to a bona fide HOLMES terminal.

Alex made circuits of the room, admiring the changes wrought by Peter in the disused studio, while Thomas leaned against the wall watching him. After some minutes he had seen enough and looked at Thomas inquiringly. ‘Are we done?’

‘I confess,’ said Thomas airily, and he had that look in his eye that Alex was beginning to mistrust, or actually the opposite, in that he was starting to know exactly what it signified. ‘I have found it very hard sometimes,’ Alex raised an unimpressed eyebrow, ‘to sit in here, watching rugby on the television, and not think about that night.’

‘It’s hard when you’re watching the rugby, is that what you’re saying?’

‘You know exactly what I’m saying,’ he paused, ‘and yet you’re exhibiting an astonishing degree of wilful ignorance.’

‘Seriously, though, Thomas. No,’ said Alex, walking over to him. ‘We are not going to do anything in here again. Look at it - this is Peter’s space now. Can you imagine his face if he knew what had happened in here before he moved his stuff in, never mind now.’

‘But how would he know?’ said Thomas, rearranging himself against the wall to face Alex. ‘He’s taken Abigail to see Nicky and they won’t be back for hours. And Molly won’t come in if she knows we’re in here, which clearly she does.’ He took hold of one of Alex’s hands, and placed it against the fly of his trousers, beneath which his intent was unmistakable. ‘So what? Not even once? For old times’ sake?’

Alex rolled his eyes. ‘You are getting to be a fucking liability Thomas,’ he said complainingly, though his hand told a different story. ‘I’m starting to wonder if you ever actually think about anything else.’

‘I’d say that’s hardly fair,’ said Thomas, some moments later, his breathing now somewhat erratic. ‘But, now you come to mention it,’ and there was another pause while Thomas’ breathing hitched further, ‘it was said… once upon a time... that there _were_ only three things that could hold my interest.’

‘Yeah? And what were the other two then?’

‘Rugby,’ gasped Thomas, ‘and spells.’

***

‘I am not fucking ashamed of this, Thomas. Are you telling me you are?’ and Alex’s voice threatened to go up a notch. 

‘No. Of course not. _Of course not_. You may believe me when I say I have played that hand, in the years when it was imposed upon me, upon us all, and it is not one I am anxious to repeat. I am not ashamed of who I am, and nor am I of…this’ said Thomas gesturing between the two of them. 

‘However,’ he continued, ‘what I am anxious to avoid is any further strain on Peter. At least while Operation Carthorse is ongoing.’

‘And the rest.’

‘And the rest,’ agreed Thomas.

‘You must be aware of the impact that May’s behaviour has had on him – even if he, in fact, is not. Not fully anyway.’ Alex nodded. ‘And so, I really do think it best that, until this is all cleared up, and those two have been apprehended, or otherwise, the fewer emotional adjustments that Peter has to accommodate the better.’ He paused to consider. ‘Given what Peter believes the nature of our relationship to be, processing … this will require a degree of mental acrobatics that I’m not sure even he is capable of. Not without additional stress at any rate; which, as I say, I am reluctant to impose if at all possible.’

‘So you want to keep things under wraps, at work? And make out we’re still at daggers drawn for Grant’s sake?’ Alex considered, ‘I’ll be honest, Thomas, I’m not sure I like the implication that we think we’re doing something that we shouldn’t be. And it doesn’t make any difference to the job, because you’re not in my line of management – thank fuck, by the way – and I’m not in yours.’

‘Quite. But it’s never only about the job is it? The fact remains that Peter – and DC Guleed, and _the team_ – have enough to deal with in the short term, and I personally do not want to add to the burden. Let us deal with this rogue magician, and May, and if this still is’, Thomas grinned, ‘then we’ll do something official about it then, yes? Go through the proper channels and whatnot.’

‘Ok, fine,’ Alex sighed, ‘But to be absolutely bloody clear, there is nothing here that I’m ashamed of and it better _had_ be the same for you, or there won’t be any “this” or “is” or whatever the fuck we’re calling it today.’

‘Thank you, Alex. I appreciate it, I really do.’

He reached over to Alex and took his hand, and Alex twined his fingers with Thomas’.

‘Alright then. And,’ he said ‘I suppose this does at least mean we don’t have to have a conversation with the DPS just yet. But, once all this is sorted, we let people know this is happening? Or otherwise…’ he added darkly.

‘Of course,’ said Thomas, squeezing the fingers holding his.

So it remained Alexander and Thomas at work; Alex and, more often than not, "trouble" when they were alone.

***

Alex tried to swim back to consciousness. He could still hear the roar of the crowd, he thought, but it was muted now.

The nightmares had morphed over the years and the sources of terror were less distinct than they once were, but the fact of the terror remained. The paralysis, the need to run or to fight, the inability to do so, and the struggle to will limbs to move, but with no result. The powerlessness.

Alex opened his eyes to the darkness and realised that the speed of his heartbeat had followed him from the nightmare, and that he was drenched with sweat.

But also, before he was fully conscious, he felt strong arms around him, encircling his shoulders, gripping him tightly and anchoring him in the present. Alex had been rigid with the effects of the nightmare, but, as its force ebbed, he felt the adrenaline drain from him also.

‘Was it bad?’ said Thomas softly.

‘I couldn’t tell you. It felt bad.’

‘That’s all it needs.’

Alex took a deep shuddering breath, and began to try to regulate his breathing, as he had been taught. As he did so, he curled into Thomas who continued to hold him. 

As his breaths became more even, and the jagged effects of the nightmare receded further, he realised that Thomas was humming softly.

‘What’s that?’

‘D’you know, I really have no idea. It’s a lullaby our mother used to sing to us when we were very small, and I’m not sure I ever knew the words.’ He paused. ‘It _might_ have been German even. In any event, I recall that it worked. Is it annoying? Shall I stop?’

‘No. Please. It’s nice.’

So Thomas continued to hum, and Alex continued to breathe, and the night moved on.

***

Thomas noticed that, following an offhand comment from Alex about missing them, Eccles cakes had begun to appear at breakfast every time Molly knew that he would be present. Thomas knew that Molly always tended to the people that she liked by the only means at her disposal, and he knew that, unlike most people, Alex was in no way disconcerted by her, nor indeed treated her any differently to anyone else. 

‘Does she not… bother you?’ Thomas had asked on Alex’s first visit to the Folly.

‘And why the fuck would she “bother” me?’ said Alex, which answered that question.

But it was more than that and once, when Thomas and Molly were sitting companionably in the kitchen after dinner and Peter was playing games or somesuch in the coach house – he polishing shoes, she chopping vegetables, Toby snoring in his basket – he’d tried to ask her tactfully whether she was in any way perturbed by Alex visiting as he did, particularly as Peter was being kept in ignorance of it. He need not have bothered trying to be tactful as Molly had clearly been awaiting an opportunity to indicate quite how satisfactory she found the arrangement, that she was delighted that Thomas was involved with someone so decent and dependable, and so much less… Molly hesitated and looked slightly embarrassed, but finished resolutely with downcast eyes …less volatile than the old one.

Thomas’ throat constricted briefly as he understood who and what she meant, and he was momentarily vexed that she would compare the two in such a way, but then he remembered her genuine interest in his happiness, and he smiled at her to show that he was not offended.

Some weeks later, Thomas found them conferring by the front door, several minutes after Molly had gone to admit him. Molly was holding some flowers, and looking somewhat startled.

‘Er, what’s this?’ said Thomas and Molly indicated, still looking confused, that the flowers had come from Alex.

‘You brought flowers for Molly?’ said Thomas turning to him with a smile

‘Thomas, you told me she’s been washing my socks and… things when I spend the night here,’ he said in a low voice. ‘The least I can do is buy her a bunch of fucking flowers.’

It was more than a few blooms, it was a sizeable bouquet and Molly was holding it as if it were a newborn baby – lovingly, but as if it might shatter into pieces at any moment. 

Molly nodded her thanks at Alex again and headed for the kitchen, still holding the flowers gingerly. ‘That was a nice thing to do,’ said Thomas, kissing him quickly. 

‘Was it? Seems a perfectly normal thing to do to me. Are we in the library then?’ said Alex and strode ahead.

*** 

When they lay abed, sometimes early in the morning but more often in the long nights, and it was Thomas’ turn to be shaken awake by the horrors of the past, he told Alex - haltingly at first, but with increasing candour - about the battle, and what had gone before, and the long, long walk home. 

He told him about David, the kind of man he had been, and what they had meant to each other, and how he had not been able to save him in the end. And how he had carried on through the years because it was all he knew how to do. 

He told him all this and more, in fragments, over months, and they wordlessly began to adopt the same position on these occasions, Thomas reclining against Alex, who held him from behind. Alex never made any comment throughout these recitations – didn’t judge, didn’t intrude - except to hold Thomas a little more tightly every now and then, and to shush him if the tears came.

*** 

It was the first decent evening of the year and Alex had persuaded Thomas, with some difficulty it had to be said, to leave the Jag and walk down to the river.

Alex knew there were doings that Thomas and Peter had with someone down at Wapping who claimed to be a goddess. Well, Alex couldn’t answer to that. A year ago, he knows what he would have said; these days, he wouldn’t say he was more enlightened, just more that it was easier for all concerned if he didn’t ask too many questions.

In any event, Thomas didn’t start having a conversation with the water when they got to the riverside, so that was something.

The weather wasn’t so good that sitting outside would be pleasant for that many hours, so Alex led them straight to the small garden bar on the roof of the concert hall. This early in the season, there were not many tourists or passersby, just a few locals, like them, enjoying the first real rays of spring. They found seats at a small table by a huddle of runner bean canes acting as a natural pergola, and drank, and talked of nothing in particular.

They remained there for a little while, and had one more drink, until the dusk began to show. Not all of the other drinkers had left the rooftop by then, there were still a few fellow stragglers but the lengthening shadows could convince them – almost - that they had the place to themselves.

‘Should we think about making a move? I could do with getting some dinner.’

‘Hmm? Yes. You’re right. Shall we call a cab? I can pick up the Jag tomorrow.’ Thomas patted himself down ‘Do you have your ‘phone handy? I seem to have come out without mine.’

Alex rolled his eyes and handed it over.

‘Thanks. Just a sec.’ Thomas walked a few paces away and had a brief conversation before returning to his seat.

‘Fifteen minutes. So we should head off in about ten.’

‘Fine. So where did you want to-‘

Alex broke off as the sky became illuminated just above him, as if a light had been switched on. But the light seemed to be concentrated around them alone; Alex felt a small draught of air, and then the light dissolved into what looked like sparks, but no, that wasn’t right… No, what they looked like were cherry blossoms, falling, but… made of light. They swirled and scattered around their heads and drifted to the ground, where they faded slowly, each leaving a lingering glow behind so that the floor around their table looked, for a moment, like a map of the heavens.

‘Happy birthday, Alex,’ said Thomas smiling, and kissed him.

*** 

‘..I’ve told you before,’ said Alex, as they descended the stairs and crossed the atrium. ‘I was born in 1966. And you know the month.’

‘Ah yes, of course. 1966.’ Thomas wrinkled his forehead. ‘That year. Now why does that ring a bell?’

‘England winning the World Cup maybe? That’s what most people associate with it.’

‘Did we? Did we really? You think I would have remembered that… Oh, hold on, you’re talking about _football_, aren’t you? No, it definitely wouldn’t be that. Never mind, it will come to me.’

‘You are such a fucking snob, do you know that Thomas?’

‘I am not!’

‘Ok then. Name one piece of music you voluntarily listen to that was made after, say, 1962.’

‘That doesn’t make me a snob; it just demonstrates that I have good taste.’

‘Ha!’ Alex pointed a triumphant finger, while Molly hissed with laughter behind her hand and Thomas scowled.

As Molly handed them their coats, Thomas leaned forward, and said in an undertone ‘Right. I’ll deal with you later.’

‘Looking forward to it,’ said Alex with a grin.

*** 

As Thomas shepherded Peter and Sahra from the mobile control centre towards the entrance of One Hyde Park, Alex grabbed him by the arm.

‘Be careful.’

‘I will.’

‘I fucking mean it Thomas.’

‘I know.’

Thomas placed his hand over Alex’s, squeezed it briefly, and then followed his officers towards the building.

*** 

‘Right, that’s me then,’ said Alex, rising from the breakfast table and shrugging on his jacket. ‘Thanks Molly. That was grand, as usual.’

Molly inclined her head graciously and started busying herself with the salvers.

‘So,’ he said addressing Thomas who was still seated with tea and toast and pondering the sports pages of _The Telegraph_. ‘I’ll be on my way. I told Miriam I’d be there by eight, and it’s twenty to now.’

‘Do you need a lift?’

‘No, it’s fine. Thanks. I’ll pick up a cab on Gower Street.’

Alex put on his overcoat and checked his pockets to make sure he had everything.

‘I’ve got that City of London corporate bollocks event tonight, which will go on till all hours, so I’ll see you tomorrow? I’ll probably give you a bell later though.’

‘Of course. I’m meeting Peter at Teddington at ten, and we’ll be detained there for most of the day, but I would have thought we’d be back well before dinner.’

‘Noted.’ Alex put a hand on Thomas’ shoulder and, as Molly was on her way to the kitchen, bent to press a kiss to the top of his head, then straightened and crossed to the door.

‘See you tomorrow.’

‘’Bye,’ replied Thomas, without looking up. ‘Love you.’

Alex stopped dead in his tracks and turned around slowly to face Thomas.

For his part, Thomas met Alex’s gaze with a look that was half shocked and half defiant.

‘Love you,’ said Alex and left the room, smiling broadly.

**Author's Note:**

> EDITED TO ADD: I have written another scene which feasibly slots into the timeframe of this fic - probably towards the earlier part. If interested, it can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22816156


End file.
